Pretty
by AndrewZachariah
Summary: Harry liked looking so pretty. He liked it a lot. Genderqueer/genderfluid Harry has been hiding his gender his entire life, when he is finally caught. What is he going to do now, and will he be able to keep his secret? Slash. Genders outside the binary system. Blaise/Harry
1. Chapter 1

**I have a story idea that's been nagging me for a while. I'm not sure how frequently I'll update, and I don't know how long this is going to be, but I want to write it.**

**The idea for this story is that Harry is genderqueer/genderfluid (I haven't decided which yet) and he's been hiding it his whole life. The pairing I'm going for is Blaise/Harry. With that in mind, there will probably be slash later on in the story. Okay, let me repeat that: THERE WILL BE SLASH LATER IN THE STORY. If you don't like gay relationships, or you don't want to read about genders outside the binary system, then please don't read this story. I have no patience and no tolerance for people who read something they don't like and leave hateful comments about it.**

**I would appreciate it if you didn't flame me, thanks.**

**Andrew Zachariah**

At five years old, Harry didn't normally clean Aunt Petunia's room. She said she didn't want him getting his _freakishness_ all over her nice things. Harry quite agreed with his aunt's assessment; there was simply no need to have her trinkets and clothes ruined by a freak like him. Despite her best attempts, however, sometimes Aunt Petunia just didn't have the time to clean up after herself.

Harry gingerly stepped into his aunt and uncle's room. The little boy's eyes were wide as he stared at the unfamiliar surroundings. For a moment the child stood still, but then he shook himself. He had a job to do, after all. Harry marched up to the large bed and quickly stripped it of its covers, piling the duvets, comforters, and sheets off to the side. Harry efficiently began replacing the sheets, plumping the pillows and straightening the bedding just so. Aunt Petunia had told him he needed to wash her vanity too, but that he had to be gentle. If anything broke, he wouldn't be eating for a week!

Harry took small, tentative steps towards the vanity. The table was white, with delicately curving legs and a small stool. There were three mirrors attached to the table, and three pictures of the family rested in front of the mirrors. Harry gently picked up each photo, polishing it with the utmost care before setting it back down. Make up was carefully organized across the table top, and Harry picked each container up to stare at it in wonder.

There were several ornate tubes of lipstick and palettes of eye shadow. There were small square containers filled with pink blushes, and bronze powders, and there was a container labeled "foundation." Harry slowly ran his fingers over the soft brushes, reveling in the silky feel of the smooth tops and tips.

Harry glanced at the bedroom door wearily, waiting for Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon to jump out and scream "Gotcha Freak!" The Dursleys were in London shopping today, but one could never be too sure. When nothing happened, Harry slowly lowered himself onto the white stool, silently praying that he wasn't spreading his freakishness all over the vanity.

Harry opened the drawer on the right, his eyes widening as he stared at the various necklaces and bracelets. There were strands of pearls, gold necklaces, diamond bracelets, and gold watches. Harry ran his fingers over the smooth pearls reverently. They were so shiny, so beautiful. With trembling fingers, Harry slowly pulled out a strand of pearls, looping it over his head twice so the long necklace fit. Stretching up as tall as he could on the chair, Harry examined himself in the mirror.

His hair was a mess as usual, and his skin was rather pale. He had a fading bruise on his right shoulder, but Harry quickly pulled his shirt up, hoping it wouldn't slide down again to reveal his mottled skin. Harry's eyes were bright, but the little boy didn't know what it meant. All that really mattered was the way the pearls shined against his throat. Harry ran his fingers over the small beads, his plump lips parting into a smile.

Harry's eyes fell on the tubes of lipstick and he bit his lips thoughtfully. Aunt Petunia wouldn't mind if he tried some on right? She wouldn't notice if he used just a little bit surely. Having made up his mind, the small boy reached for a silver tube, pulling off the cap with a low pop. The lipstick was a deep red, much like the color of his uncle's wine. Harry's eyes darted up to the mirror and he focused on his lips. Harry was very good at coloring in Dudley's old coloring books. He stayed in the lines and didn't make mistakes because he was a very careful boy. Firming his determination, Harry slowly raised the lipstick to his bottom lip, watching in awe as his lips began to color like his uncle's wine.

With slow, sure strokes Harry applied the lipstick, smiling at his reflection when he was finished. There wasn't even any on his teeth! Harry recapped the lipstick and put it back where he had found it. Then he simply stared.

Harry liked wearing the pearl necklace, and he liked how pretty his lips looked with Aunt Petunia's lipstick on them. Harry felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he continued to look at his reflection. Harry liked looking so pretty. He liked it a lot.

The sound of a car driving past the house made young Harry jump. He quickly but gently pulled the pearls off and placed them back in their drawer. He dashed to the master bathroom and wiped the lipstick off with some toilet paper, grimacing when it smeared. Harry flushed the toilet paper down the toilet and ran downstairs to get the vacuum. He had chores to do after all, and besides, freaks like him weren't supposed to feel pretty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, here's the first update! Go me! Go me! I still haven't decided if Harry is going to be genderqueer or genderfluid. At this point I'm leaning more towards genderfluid, but I have several chapters to go before I _really_ need to pick. As I said in the previous chapter, there is SLASH in this story, and there are NONBINARY characters. Don't like it, don't read!**

**Please don't flame me, thanks! Let me know what you think of the chapter!**

**Andrew Zachariah**

Over the past two years Harry had developed a rather bad habit of sneaking into Aunt Petunia's room to practice with her make up. Harry knew only bad boys snuck around and used other people's things, but he loved Aunt Petunia's make up so much that he couldn't be bothered to care. He liked the way eyeliner would make his eyes so much bigger, and he liked how long his eyelashes were when he wore mascara. Harry loved lipstick the most though. He loved how full and bright his lips would look, especially when he used the red wine color. Harry would admit that he had gotten rather good at using make up, perhaps even better than Aunt Petunia.

When he was seven years old, Harry had discovered the dresses. Aunt Petunia had been gifted with a new set of china over Christmas, so she had carefully packed all her old china up and ordered Harry to take the boxes up to the attic. Harry had been warned that if he dropped anything, he would get the beating of his life, and there would be no meals for two weeks.

Harry knew to be careful. He would be as careful with the china as he was with Aunt Petunia's pearl necklace, not that she knew Harry played with her necklace of course.

Harry slowly but surely lugged the heavy boxes up the stairs, depositing them on the landing before he went back downstairs to get a stool. Harry set the stool down next to the ladder to the attic, and placed one of the boxes on top. Pulling himself onto the ladder, Harry climbed halfway up and hooked his little feet around the side rungs, hoping he wouldn't fall as he reached for the box on the stool.

Harry swayed and wobbled precariously, but the boy breathed a sigh of relief when he did, in fact, stay on the ladder. Harry quickly pushed the box into the attic and repeated the process for the last two parcels. Harry knew he would get in trouble if he didn't put the boxes away, so he scrambled into the attic to try and find a home for the china.

Harry had never been in the attic before, and he looked around with wide eyes at the stacks of dusty boxes. The attic wasn't very big, but Harry could see a corner that seemed to have some space for the china. Lugging the boxes over, Harry carefully stacked them on top of each other. He was about to leave the attic when a label caught his eye.

_Lily's Dresses._

Harry's heart raced. Dresses? What kind of dresses? And who was this Lily? Why did Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have her clothes? Harry glanced back at the hatch to the attic, biting his lip anxiously. Did he dare risk opening the box? If Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon discovered his bad habits, they would know he was a bad boy _and_ a freak! Harry's eyes darted between the box and the door. He wanted to see the dresses. He wanted to see them really badly.

Stomping his foot with a huff, Harry finally began to inch closer to the dusty box, as if he was afraid something would leap out from the shadowed depths. Harry ran his fingers over the faded cardboard, gnawing on his lips. He could do this, it was just a box. Harry pulled the flaps open with no small amount of trepidation, closing his eyes with a flinch before he could catch a glimpse of the contents.

After several long moments of silence, Harry cracked one eye open. Nothing was happening, so he opened the other eye. Curiosity overtook fear as Harry looked into the box, excitement blooming in his chest. There were dozens of dresses neatly folded in the box, and Harry's hands trembled as he rifled through them.

Deep navy blue dresses with white buttons and pale pink dresses with lace and ruffles. Dresses with long sleeves and short sleeves, and dresses with jackets and dresses without. Harry's heart raced as he pulled out a navy blue dress. It had a pleated skirt with a white collar and a red bow tied in the front. There were three white buttons just above the pleats of the skirt where they would sit on Harry's waist. The little boy giggled as he stared at the dress. It reminded him a little bit of the sailor costumes he would see during Halloween.

Harry held the dress up against his body, shivering at the soft fabric. Should he try it on? Oh he wanted to. He really, _really_ did… but boys weren't supposed to wear dresses. If Harry put this dress on, that would make him a _real_ freak. Harry frowned. He didn't want to be a freak. Freaks didn't have families and they didn't get hugs and kisses and love because freaks didn't deserve it.

Harry rubbed the fabric of the dress in his hands. He really wanted to wear the dress. His heart ached for him to try it on. Maybe he could play pretend. That was okay, right? If you're playing dress up it doesn't count. Nobody is a freak if they're playing dress up.

Yes, that's what he would do. Harry nodded his head as he took the dress and scrambled down the attic ladder. He dashed into the bathroom and quickly stripped off his baggy shirt and scraggly pants. Harry's cheeks were flushed with excitement as he slipped the dress over his head. Harry smoothed his hands over the skirt and fingered the white trim at the edges of the short sleeves. The dress didn't cover the bruises on his legs, but Harry didn't care.

He looked so pretty.

Harry's hair had grown even longer after Aunt Petunia's last attempt to cut it off. It barely brushed his shoulders now, and Harry bit his lip as he swept it up behind him with one hand. He had seen the girls at school do this. It was called a ponytail, but only if there was one. Harry dropped his hair and split it down the middle, letting the two sections rest on his shoulders. That was called pigtails because there were two, according to Alyssa Gregory.

Harry's fingers slowly gathered his hair and pushed it over his right shoulder. He parted it into three sections, placing one section over the other in a tight pattern. When he was finished, Harry held the ends of his hair and looked at his reflection. That was called a braid. Harry liked braids the most.

Harry let his hair go as he stared at the mirror. He looked so pretty. His eyes were bright and shining, like those fancy jewels Aunt Petunia would talk about. He was smiling, and his lips were a rosy pink all on their own! Harry blushed as he looked at himself. He knew he was being vain by staring this long and only the naughty boys were vain, but he couldn't help it. The pleats started at his waist, and when Harry twirled they flared out around his legs. The little boy giggled and ran his fingers over the dress one more time.

He needed to take it off now. Aunt Petunia had said the garden needed to be weeded and the roses needed to be pruned before the Dursleys returned from a play in the city. Harry wanted to cry. He didn't want to take the dress off, but he had to. With a mournful sigh, the little boy slowly slid out of the soft cotton and back into his baggy clothes. He didn't look so pretty anymore.

Harry returned the dress to its box in the attic and closed the hatch behind him. He was only playing dress up after all, and the dress had to be put away when he was done. Harry stomach churned as he walked out to the garden. This didn't make him a freak, did it? Harry wasn't a freak. He wasn't! Harry stubbornly bit his tongue as he staved off tears and kneeled down to begin weeding. He was only playing dress up, and sometimes you felt pretty when you played dress up. Harry wasn't a freak. He wasn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well Harry's gotten to mess around with some dresses now, so let's try something a little different. Again, this story involves characters who identify outside the gender binary, and gay relationships. Which means SLASH folks! The pairing is Blaise/Harry.**

**Please don't flame me thanks!**

**AndrewZachariah**

When Harry was eight he got to visit London for the first time. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were going to a big business get-away with Uncle Vernon's boss, and Dudley had been invited to go too. Of course, Harry wasn't allowed to go to the get-away, but he already knew he wouldn't be going. Aunt Petunia had pursed her lips and sucked her cheeks in when Mrs. Figg had told her she would be going to see a veterinary with Mr. Tibbles and couldn't watch Harry. That meant Harry was going with his aunt and cousin to get Dudley a new suit for the fancy dinner at the get-away. Harry was going to see London!

Petunia had given Harry a very severe warning before they got into the car. "Don't you go about doing anything funny, boy, or I'll tell Vernon! I won't have any of your _freakishness_ ruining this trip for my sweet Dudders." Aunt Petunia had cuffed him on the head just to remind him, and Harrry's heart had sunk. His aunt didn't even know the half of his freakishness.

Ever since Harry had discovered the dresses in the attic, he had been sneaking up there at every chance to try them on. He had worn the navy blue sailors dress, and he had worn the pink dress with lace and ruffles. He's tried on a green dress with a plaid pattern on the top, and a long sleeved pale blue dress with white buttons. Harry had found a yellow dress at the bottom of the box that had flowers all over it. He wanted to try that dress on the first chance he had.

Harry sat in the back of the car the whole ride to London. He was very quiet, unlike Dudley who whined about the car being too hot, then too cold, then too quiet, then too loud when Aunt Petunia turned the music on. In Harry's humble opinion, Dudley whined far too much. When the big boy had nothing left to complain about, he took to pestering and pinching and flicking and bothering Harry. Harry really didn't like Dudley, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the car finally pulled up to the suit shop in London.

Petunia hissed at Harry to keep quiet while he sat in the corner of the shop, and the little boy complied happily. He sat on a stool and watched as an assistant came over to help his aunt and cousin. Harry's eyes wandered over the rack of suits, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to wear one. Harry stared longingly at a black suit with a green tie the color of his eyes. Harry liked that suit. He wished he could try it on, but then Aunt Petunia would tell Uncle Vernon and Harry would get a nasty beating.

"Hi! My name's Amanda. Are you here for a suit too?" Harry startled at the assistant's voice that seemed to be right in his ear. Jumping up, Harry spun around and shook his head near violently.

"No, no! My cousin needs a suit for a dinner he has to attend. I just… came along." Harry mumbled, twisting his hands in his baggy shirt.

"Oh nonsense; I'm sure we can find a suit for you too!" Amanda grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him towards the dressing room, much to the boy's horror. Aunt Petunia caught sight of them and she looked livid as Harry was pushed into a dressing room. The boy gulped fearfully as the assistant patted his shoulder.

"Don't you worry; I'll find something for you no problem!" Amanda spun on her heel and took off on her hunt for a suit. Harry fought the trembles threatening to take over his hands. When the boy peeked out from behind the door he could see his aunt's enraged glare boring into his dressing room. He was definitely getting a beating, Harry mourned as he shut the dressing room door.

Amanda's prompt, cheerful knock had Harry opening it again. "Here you are!" The assistant gushed as she hung a suit up in the dressing room. "Try it on and let me know what you think!" She called over her shoulder as she left. Harry's mouth went dry as he looked at the suit. It was the one he was looking at earlier; the one with the green tie.

Harry's hands shook as he gently slid the suit off its hanger. Harry ran his fingers over the tie in wonder, reveling at the silky smooth feeling of the fabric. Harry shivered with excitement as he rapidly slid out of his own baggy clothes and piled them in the corner of the dressing room.

Harry slid his arms in to the sleeve of the white dress shirt, buttoning each button one at a time. He knew he should tuck his shirt into his pants because it made boys look smart, so he did just that. The pants felt silky smooth on his legs, almost like water. Harry dared not look at his reflection yet. He grasped the tie and bit his lip. Harry had seen Uncle Vernon tie the knots many times, so it couldn't be that hard. Harry fingers clumsily fumbled through the tying of the knot, and the boy was proud when he managed to get it settled at his collar. Harry then pulled the jacket on and looked in the mirror.

Suits were different than dresses. Dresses made Harry feel pretty. They were soft and fluttery. Dresses were gentle and kind and sweet. Dresses made Harry want to giggle and dance and smile. Suits made Harry feel pretty too, but differently. Not pretty, but handsome. Suits made Harry feel strong. He stood differently when he wore a suit. He felt like… a man? Yes, something like that. Harry really couldn't put his finger on it, but that was close enough for now.

Amanda knocked on the door and Harry startled out of his reverie. "Are you done?" Harry licked his lips and straightened his shoulders. He twisted the door handle and stepped out of the dressing room to Amanda's squeals of delight.

Later, when Harry was curled on his cot nursing cuts and bruises, the little boy would think about suits and dresses, and men and women. He didn't really understand it, but he thought he quite liked the idea of being a boy _and_ a girl.


End file.
